The New Sense

Sunday, June 02, 2002

B— certainly had a good time at the beer festival — he staggered in at midnight, hilariously tipsy, but not wanting to admit it. I was glad to see him relaxed after the blood test fiasco.
Today was a quiet day. We went to Café Selekta for the afternoon, just reading and chatting a bit. I can't believe summer hasn't started yet! We should be out in the park, lying in the grass. Apparently it was the wettest May in the history of weather history. I'm really starting to believe that B— has 'brought the weather with him' from Vancouver.
While we were at the café I asked him again what happened between him and Stephanie. I knew it was a bit risky, but I was just too curious. He told me that she couldn't handle his paranoia. It's funny that he referred to it like that. I wonder if he himself sometimes thinks he's crazy, just for a second, or was he being ironic: she couldn't handle his 'paranoia'?
I asked him if he misses her and he said yes. Then I asked if he still loves her. He didn't even think about it for very long. I didn't have the impression that he was weighing up how he should answer or what my reaction would be. He just said yes again. Then he said, "But she didn't believe me."
"About what?" I asked.
"About Sean and my way of seeing the world and everything. She just thought I was nuts or something and that the whole thing with Sean was just some kind of silly masculine competitive thing. She just didn't trust me."
Trust, trust, trust. All you need is trust.
He carried on. "So although I love her, my feelings have been kind of stunted or dulled or something, because when the chips were down she didn't trust me."
Ooooh…the pressure's on now, Sara. Better trust him, or he'll be off! But there's still so much I don't understand about him, and he's going to have to trust me too and tell me what this whole thing with Sean is really about — why his life is in danger. And where he gets his money from. At the end of the afternoon he gave me $300 cash for my half of the rent. I took it, as I could see it was a pride thing for him (and it's fair, anyway) but I could see that he knew what I was thinking. Where the hell does it come from? After the stress of Friday I decided that discretion was the better part of not-pissing-him-off-so-we-can-have-sex-again-tonight, and didn't say anything.

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posted by Sara